Dr. Lanka Siva Rama  PRASAD ( India) 

Dr. Lanka Siva Rama PRASAD (India)



There is a long, long trail a-winding

In to the land of my dreams,

Where the nightingales are singing

And a bright moon beams.

-Stoddard King-1913

When you follow an ancient tune that haunts you to unrest and a recurrent dream makes you uneasy in your soporific callousness you rush begin your journey in total unpreparedness and embark in a ship with no name to sail to unknown lands. You may ask, is a goal necessary, for me or anyone, to pursuit a dream in this world of impermanence? When that haunting tune derails you from your comfort chair on to a hot scorching sand dune and a lone cloud laughs at you following a cool breeze, then don’t you run instinctively to welcome the drifting drizzle? If it turns out to be a storm is a different matter then your thoughts and priorities will change. What we really anticipate and crave is CHANGE. That’s how life flows like a rapid with ravishing music.

So, what can a dreamer do when he is born in a modified cowshed into a house for the stay of a rural teacher? My father was under the shade of the red flag the capitalists abhor, so he was punished for his belief that landed him in a remote village with no transport facilities and electricity. We were his strength, my mother, me, my younger brother and sister. We raised our own garden of vegetables; a hen coop always visited a few inquisitive snakes. I had to walk six miles a day to and fro to reach my High School crossing a few torrential streams that swell fast with down pours, a few paddy fields and a stretch of bushy land where foxes and rabbits, snakes and mongooses in constant run for lives and livelihood.

I learnt the secrets of Botany, Zoology and Life from them of course Philosophy in those days of everyday ordeal. The photographic memory, the voracious appetite for classics and the constant number one position in my studies, my father’s awful discipline and my mother’s unmitigated love towards us and life taught me many morals hitherto not mentioned in text books. One day I got injured on my forehead in a dreamy slip and I had to walk all the way four kilometers to reach a dispensary. I saw village people dying of diseases without proper medical help. Especially women during deliveries, the maternal mortality was very high. These observations made my determination firm to become a doctor.

During my school days I was pampered by my teachers who introduced me to the classics of literature and fine arts. It was a chain reaction, one book after another, one art after another. While studying Medicine, I became interested in occult sciences, reading and practicing the Serpentine power- Kundalini, Palmistry, Astrology and Divination. It was a rerun of Doctor Faustus except I did not sign any blood contract. My precarious economical status probably saved me from selling my soul. I started reading Marx and slowly understood the dynamics of Economics in those troubled times.

In 1983 I started my Medical carrier as a Medical officer in a Primary Health Centre. I had enough experiences of hope and despair, successes and failures that made me even stronger. My encounters with pen and scalpel made me a prolific writer and a popular surgeon. Those were the days when Naxalites of Communist party were eliminated in encounters and I was branded as their sympathizer. When I found the trouble is brewing in gigantic proportions I stopped my medical practice and went to city- Hyderabad and applied for the Fellowship in Vascular Surgery. In a period of two years I have completed a fellowship in Vascular Surgery, a few diplomas in Television production, Human Rights, Web Designing, Animation- cell and computer, painting, cartoon drawing, Cinema Special effects and so on. Not satisfied with them, and after a few more years of medical practice, finding myself unfit in the changed times of malpractices, became a Master of Chirurgery in Cardio Thoracic and Vascular Surgery with an aim to help poor and downtrodden.

When you read and study thousands of books and authors you are bound to be a writer or poet. The inherent tendency lying dormant in me to be a writer prompted me to try my hand in this self-satisfying profession. By that time our economical condition was better. I started –Writers Corner’- to help poets to come together on a common platform. We published several books, edited yearly Telugu poetry anthologies, and I grew up along with that poetry organization. After returning from Mumbai where I worked for two years I returned to my town and joined a rural private medical college as a consultant cardiac surgeon in 2011 at Karimnagar near Hyderabad in Telangana State of India. So far we have done around 500 open heart surgeries including child heart surgeries with impressive record realizing my long cherished dream.

I am aware of the power of Social Media and I was active in FaceBook and I saw the proposal of Pentasi- B under the leadership of Dr. Penpen. I visited the charming lion in his den and we signed a few papers amidst of his pampering pomp and love. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. With a few hic-coughs the PENTASI-B WRITERS CORNER – INDIA – POETREE CONFERENCE became a milestone and bench-mark in the annals of poetry conferences, that was attended by more than 200 eminent poets from all over the world. Rest is History. It was another fulfilled dream for me.

My interest in classics was sown, nourished, and groomed by instincts. From Epic of Gligamesh, Inanna, Homer’s classics, Indian Epics, Tamil Epics to my current translation works of masters and contemporary poets is a chain reaction of that enthusiasm. It helped me understanding the similarities and differences of Eastern and Western Theology. My occasional trips to Orient- china, Bali, Philippines and West- Norwegian countries, France, Germany, Italy, Greece and England, African countries like Morocco, Egypt made me ponder in to the gradation of myths and beliefs, customs and consciences.

It is the Universal love that binds us all. War mentality blinds us; Peace comes like cool air soothing the turbulent weather. Though many poets are more extroverted and selfish than the common populace, quite a few of them maintain eternal bonds of brotherhood and love.

In a carrier spanning around forty conscious years of service in diverse fields of poetry and Medicine, using pen and knife with the same hand in opening the Pandora’s boxes, I had the unique opportunity of observing the good and evil things in them.

Initiated and propelled by the knowledge from the classical poets, was supplanted by the mystic paths opened by the poets like Neruda, Lorca, Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, Dylan Thomas, Tagore, and other 20th century poets. Now my efforts in reading, studying and translating new generation poets like Maria Miraglia (Italy), Pramila Khadun (Mauritius), Edwin Cordevilla (Philippines), George Onsy (Egypt), Roula Pollard (Greece), Rashid Pelpuo (Ghana), Oulaya (Morocco), Ade C. (Australia), SosonjanA. Khan (Brunei), Yawchien Fang (Taiwan) , Alicja Kubreska (Poland), Izabela Zubko (Poland) increased the spheres of my understanding about the world. It is my third dream that is realized. Now with more than 130 books were published on my name yet I am still ravenously hungry to do more work in the field of poetry and of course in Medicine too.

With around ten volumes of original English poetry, hundreds of poems in modified sonnet form, a few novels and short story books my overall journey is a dream fulfilled. As Stoddard King put it-

There is a long, long night of waiting,

Until my dreams all come true,

Till the day when I will be going down

That long, long trail with you.


Poems by Lanka Siva Rama PRASAD



Did you miss me O Atlantis and my cry of Minoan majestic mantis?
What gigantic trident strike of God Poseidon made in wrath or hubris,
On the altar of Aegean Sea swirled to and fro of a sleepy volcanic caldera,
To cough, groan and uproot an old civilization into ash and pumice of Thira?
A majestic archipelago, looks like some first bite remnant of a giant doughnut pristine,
Is it God Zeus or Mother Nature that clothed gorgeous Gaia with hornblende and olivine?
What tsunami hands of Sea God transformed the Kalliste, and strongyle the most circular and beautiful marine,
Who gave you the name of the cathedral of Saint Irene of Perissa, contracted into the lovely Santorini divine?
With agape and love we gape at the grape vines, white marvelous dwellings and blue domes,
The crescent coruscant archipelago beams brilliant in Apollo’s magnificent radiance reflecting homes,
Myriads of tourists mingle in a mêlée of mesmerizing tongues and mystic magical musical montages,
Black sand beaches and deep blue waters, meadows clothed in green verdant and golden yellow asters of ages,
Did Prometheus brought fire in the stalks of sesame and gave it to his dear humans with love and affection?
Is the archipelago Santorini a gift or bane to the earth dwellers, from gods or a warning to them in clear reflection?
( To Roula Pollard, the child of Santorini with love)

Copy right@Dr. Lsr Prasad 19- 02- 2017


Sing to me of the gifts, O Muses, you give…..

Aren’t we the Thamyris like poets made blind by the nine Muses?
Why do we scurry in making obsolete things and define abuses?
Aren’t we the descendents of poets that lauded the mortal man as God?
Why do we succumb to the glitters of satanic nature and revere the lump of clod?
When the divine power of Zeus paired with memory were born Muses nine!
From the Helicon mount to the Olympus of gods, they bustle to entertain divine!
When the winged horse Pegasus touched its hooves to the ground on Helicon spine,
Bursts forth are four springs of arts divine, the dwellings of Muses to refine!
With writing tablet and stylus Calliope carves Epic poetry,
The entire ancient to modern poets pick inspiration from that archaic foundry and try;
Scrolls, books, carnets, laurel wreaths are the properties of Clio,
History unfolds by her blessings and truth springs up in upsurge flow;
Aulos, panpipes and flutes sing melodies with Euterpe,
Lyric poetry, music, songs flow in waves of strophe and antistrophe;
When Cithara like lyres sizzle in the serene arms of Erato,
Love songs permeate the pristine evenings with honey and pimento;
With tragic mask, sword, club and kothornos appears Melpomene,
Tears filled grief tears the curtains of joy and leaps as Tragedy mega or mini;
An agricultural goddess behind veil and grapes in hand Polyhymnia,
Ring the chimes and religious Hymns in the precincts of holy temple area;
Lyre and plectrum emanating mellowing sounds, Terpischore
Scores the tranquil symphonies for Dance with songs and encore!
Thalia with comic mask, shepherd’s crook and ivy wreath,
Brings back the joy and Comedy on to the stage with batted breath;
With globe and compass, Urania looks into the horizons and firmament,
Presides over Astronomy, predicts the stars and planets position and movement;
Such are the powers of the Muses; they bless us with many arts of entertainment,
With arrogance we challenge them and lose the gifts and suffer in disenchantment!
Are we the Thamyris like poets made blind by the nine Muses?
Why do we scurry in making obsolete things and refine abuses?
Are we the descendents of poets that lauded the rich man as God?
Why do we succumb to the glitters of satanic nature and revere the lump of clod?

copyright @Dr. Lsr Prasad



He thundered and laughed and his mighty trident hit the innard matters,
of an adamantine rock, it caved in and burst out a spring of pristine waters,
Amazed they sat in silence and watched her slowly sowing a seed and presto!
It grew and grew to become the great olive tree and she won the city in gusto!

Olive oil won a city for Athena thwarting the salt waters of Poseidon,
One of the oldest maidens of the world she dons the violet dress on!
From her womb was born the child of democracy and she rocked
The cradle of Western civilization and was called as the educator of the world!

When the ancient gods went into oblivion, Homer left some legacy samples,
Gods and super humans lived again, in the wood, rock images, and temples!
Under Cyclopean walls, Lion gates, the city of the violet crown became the glorious one!
That attracted Persians feet and fleet to violate the modesty of the noblest maiden!

Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Herodotus, Thucydides, Hippocrates, Socrates
And Pericles, dawned the golden era, Parthenon towered the heights of Acropolis,
Romans roamed, crusades cruised, Ottomans utterly crushed, the city declined!
Then came one Thomas Bruce the Earl of Elgin, Panel by panel he removed and lined

Them to his house-, O Parthenon Frieze, O temples of Athena Nike and Erechtheum!
O Caryatids! Where is the palladion? What happened to the salt well of Poseidon?
Where is the sacred olive tree of Athena? Who opened the tomb of Atreus or Agamemnon?
What happened to the sacred snake of Athena? Who spoiled the asbestos lychnia the lamp golden?

Every country’s ancient history suffered in the hands of vandals and investigators!
More than the mysteries they have unraveled, many of them did sacrilege at the altars!

Copyright @Dr. Lsr Prasad 1.4.2017



O moria! On the amazing slopes and sanctity of Acropolis, how Athena planted you and presented to the earthen lives,
From Oligocene to Great Crete Minoan civilization, O Oil tree, with a gnarled and twisted trunk clothed with silvery green leaves,
Adorned with small white feathery flowers and oval pearls of drupe- stone fruits crushed whole in the trapetum- oil crushers of old,
The elaion, oleum or oil dedicated as an offering to Athena, anointing the kings, to seasoning the cuisines of all known world,
In the Mediterranean basin, in the Fertile Crescent, in the Spartan gymnasia, in the Egyptian tombs, the telltale evidence,
In the sacrificial offerings, medicines, ointments, soaps and cooking, an essential commodity for Royals as well as commoners,
In bards poems and mural paintings, and symbolizing peace in the beak of the biblical dove, in the seven branched Menorah,
In the garden of Gethsemane, on the Mount of Olives, in the land of Israel, to hone Xoana- the cult figures, in the ancient amphora,
O long lived Ancient tree, under your branches Plato taught his pupils philosophy, Odysseus crawled beneath,
The tree planted by Athenian tyrant Peisistratus, the Farga d Ario tree of Vouves by Constantine the great that still survive and breath,
How many fables and legends you hide and transport from the past to the future travelling through the present time sheath,
When the Persians burnt Athens and you, on the very day, O Tree of Athena, you grew to the height of two cubits with strength,
When the Black stallion offered by the terrible god Poseidon neighed and pawed and the god thundered war, glory and power,
The goddess of Wisdom Athena planted and you grew instantly into olive tree you offered the people love and peace forever!

copyright@Dr. Lsr Prasad 19-02-2017


The Journey HEREAFTER!

‘Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?-
O pristine soul! Where did you go hereafter?
How many rivers and gates you crossed further?
Is it only oblivion after death, or is there any afterlife worth?
Is there any reincarnation or gilgul neshamot, tell me the truth!
Is it a journey to acquire a superior grade of consciousness and finally liberation?
O little flicker lamp! How do you reach the great light of magnificent illumination?
Along the shores of Nile, my mummified body stays in a sarcophagus, in a mastaba of a pyramid,
My body double Ka, my personality Ba, from fields of Aaru, journeys to the Hall of two truths,
The heart is weighed against the feather of Maat, the impure heart is devoured by the demon Ammit!
My heart was pure, i lived again and wandered in the fields of Yalu, accompanying the Sun, on his daily ride!
In the next birth, i was a Greek, fought in the Trojan war, killed by Hector, reached Hades the underworld, Hermes the messenger god left me in the banks of Styx,
I paid Charon the ferry-man the transit money, crossed Styx and passed the gate of Hell, guarded by Cerberus the three headed dog,
In the Underworld, judged by three judges Aecus, Rhadamanthus, and Minos, – pure lives go to Elysian fields, rebels against gods go to Tartarus,
Human sinners are punished in Asphodel fields and i was punished for my cruelty in that Trojan war and after purification, i was released,
In the Nordic countries i took my rebirth as a Viking warrior, and died heroically, my soul reached Valhalla and had feast with Odin,
Some went to Folkvangr to join the goddess Freyja, ordinary people go to covered hall- Hel, sinners go to the dark, misty hell- Niflhel to be punished,
Then i was born as a Hindu, a cruel king, decimated a million population in a cruel war, repented and became a monk and enlightened,
After that i was born as a monk did many good deeds and after a series of rebirths, ascended the ladder of enlightenment, but burnt myself in protest against a dragon land,
For that reason i became a child of that country followed the Way, and after death, my soul was taken to Diyu and ten courts and eight levels of Hell,
Next time i was a Jew- i saw immaculate souls immediately entering – Olam Haba- the world to come, some bad souls were exterminated, my soul was re-schooled,- then-
‘Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?- the apparition of Samuel said to Saul;
{All are from the dust, and all return to dust. Who knows the spirit of the sons of men, which goes upward, and the spirit of the animal, which goes down to the earth? But for him who is joined to all the living there is hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion!}-Ecclesiastes-NKJV

Copyright@Dr. Lsr Prasad



From an egg you were born with a mixture of divine essence and human sheen!
Your own human twin sister Klytemnestra considered you always in bitter spleen!
At the age of seven you were abducted by Theseus and rescued by your brethren!
As a political security your father gave you to Menelaus in absentio to Agamemnon!

Agamemnon the overlord of Greeks was your sister’s husband a shrewd politician,
Alexander better known as Paris took you in to his arms by Aphrodite’s initiation!
You left behind ten years of married life with a rude man and a daughter Hermione,
To live in an alien land where everyone except Hector and Priam hated you with scorn!

What has love to do with your beauty as sometimes you sided Trojans,
Yet other times you helped Greeks with a fickle mind fumbled in horizons!
After the death of Paris you were given to Deiphobus as paramour in war zones!
You hid Deiphobus sword and Menelaus killed him on your bed for his liaisons!

The face and cry that launched a thousand ships was a helpless woman’s groan!
How much she cried under the facade of the most beautiful woman is never known!

Copyright@dr. Lsr prasad 17.6.2018



Was it the man’s rib or earth’s clay or white marble you were made up of?
In the Eden, or heaven, or earth’s haven you were sculpted and passed off?
Was it the lonliness or punishment or love that brought you to the life line?…
Or is it real or fib, boon or curse, love or lust o woman you represnt in your shine?
Was it your inquisitive nature or the satanic snake’s stature you bit the forbidden fruit?
Was it your curiosity or after thought you opened the pithos, released the evil route?
Was it your milky whiteness or stone coolness that made the sculptor fall in love
Was it the male dominant reality created you as the second sex to be male’s tow?
As a mother O Eve! You saw your own son killing another in killing fields and wandering as refuge!
As a mother O Pandora! You saw Pyrrha your daughter and her husband surviving the deluge!
As a mother O Galatea! You saw your daughter Paphus having a city Paphos on her name!
As lovers and mothers you all three were immortal in human history and retained your fame!
The apple bite, the pithos fright, the slient wait descended from you as traits!
May be the misogynist minds created you but you ascended steps on your rights!

Copyright@dr. Lsr prasad 5.7.2018

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